


Dazed And Confused

by candypinksocks



Series: The Song Remains The Same [1]
Category: Franklin & Bash
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candypinksocks/pseuds/candypinksocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter’s present for Jared’s 16th birthday was a 1964 Volkswagen Beetle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dazed And Confused

**Author's Note:**

> They're both 16.

Peter's present for Jared's 16th birthday was a 1964 Volkswagen Beetle. He borrowed money from his mom and worked the grocery store packing bags for six months for the rest. It was equal parts rust and paint, blue in some places and matt black in others, the brush marks visible over the bad filler patch-up job on the doorsills. They kept it on Peter's driveway under a blue tarp, bricks holding down the corners against the wind, but not the family of chipmunks from nesting in the tailpipe. It didn't run, just coughed out almost black smoke any time either one of them tried to start it. But Jared loved it anyway.

They bought a map, spread it out on Peter's bedroom floor and planned their getaway. The summer before college, Route 101 all the way to Washington, surfboards strapped to the roof and a cooler on the back seat. Jared saved every cent of his allowance, quit complaining about the lousy internship at his father's firm and spent the time he wasn't filing and making coffee, at Peter's.

Six months and they had enough money to pull the tarp off, to lay out the roll of Peter's dad's tools next to the manual Jared found at the library, to open the doors and finally feel like they were actually going to get there and not knowing where the hell to start. 

And still Jared couldn't stop smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Engine or body work?" Kind of a moot question as Jared pulls his finger out of the little hole he's just poked in the wheel arch.

"Body work it is." 

It takes the whole of that first Saturday just to figure out how to sand down the rust, how to mix the filler, the wait for it to dry almost unbearable, the need to start painting over the growing number of gray patches making Jared's fingers itch. They eat sandwiches with dirty hands, smearing Cheeto dust and the tomato chutney Peter's grandma makes next to the stripes of filler down the fronts of their jeans, drink lemonade with dust floating next to the ice cubes and throw slices of lemon at each other to see who can get it to stick. And when they're done for the day, there's almost as much filler in their hair and under their nails than on the car and Jared's the kind of bone-deep tired that makes the bike ride home seem impossible.

"Stay here tonight." Jared shakes his head before Peter's even finished asking. Peter knows Jared'll need to make up for taking today, that if they're to get after school next week, Jared'll need to work tomorrow, get his assignments done for the week too and even then Jared'll need to come up with a damn good reason why he should spend time at Peter's. His father doesn't get what they have. Jared's not sure anyone does but them, except maybe for Peter's mom. 

Peter's hand is warm on Jared's neck, fingers scratching through the crust of gray at his hairline and Jared would do anything - no almost about it - just to say yes, to fuck it all, grab a shower and a pair of Peter's pajama pants and the afghan off the back of the couch and lose himself in bad TV for the night.

He still says, "Can't." And Peter nods, lets his hand drop to Jared's shoulder, lingering there with a squeeze before he lets go, resigned look on his face even though he's heard it all before.

"Monday though right?"

"Monday, yeah."

Jared doesn't look back as he pulls off the curb, tires hitting blacktop too hard and his knees aching with every push toward home.

*

The house is empty when he gets there, nothing unusual, both cars missing from the driveway, stale abandoned house air when he opens the door. He doesn't bother to call out, just dumps his bag by the door, kicks off his shoes and heads straight upstairs. He knows he'll get shit for leaving his bike in the driveway, his shoes and bag in the hall, but he's too tired to care, just drags himself up, one slow step at a time, his feet scuffing on the pale carpet, the tracks he leaves the only reminder he was there and they'll be gone in the morning, just like his parents, before he's even up.

The shower's just this side of too hot, the towels stupidly soft and for a minute he loses himself under the spray; switches off and thinks about nothing but miles of road, maps and junk food wrappers littering the foot wells and of course Peter.

Peter, who, despite his dad's best efforts, fills up most of Jared's days. The first and last person he speaks to every day, who knows everything without asking and who saved him from what could've been a gender altering wedgie when they met in fifth grade and the other transfer kid decided Jared looked at him funny on the third day of school.

Peter, who held off getting his leaner's permit 'til Jared got his own and then bought him a damn _car_. Who outgrew Jared over one summer by a hundred feet and glared at anyone that mentioned it. Who _still_ orders extra and saves a seat next to him at lunch, even though they're at separate schools. 

And despite his dad's best efforts; the way his eyebrows knit into a frown and his voice takes on that disapproving _'I'll speak slowly because you're obviously not understanding me'_ tone he has with interns and associates, it's Peter Jared talks about the most, Peter's opinion that matters. And even though Peter doesn't know, and Jared would die if he ever found out, the brother he kind of wished for the first time he remembered his parents fighting.

He's eating microwaved pizza over the kitchen sink when the phone rings. Jared knows it's Peter before he picks up and he's smiling as he wedges the receiver between his ear and shoulder and roots through the fridge for a soda.

"Colleen wants to know why I have Bondo between my toes and if you want meatloaf for dinner on Monday? It's not _meat_ meatloaf, it's nuts or some shi - _ow!_ " Peter's voice goes muffled for a second, like he's tucked the phone under his arm or something. "I'm to apologize for being an ass and to tell you it's organic nut and broccoli loaf and please come help me eat it or I'll be having leftovers all damn week. Say yes, Jared, 'cause she's pointing asparagus at me and it looks sharp." 

Jared pops the tab on his soda, takes a long pull and waits the required four seconds before opening his mouth close to the receiver and belching. 

"You can put the asparagus away, he's coming for not-meat loaf. And you are a foul and disgusting human being - you and your gas can ride in the trunk."

His pizza's cold now, but he folds the last slice and shoves it into his mouth anyway. "My gas and your ass." Although it sounds something more like _'mufgas ass'_.

Peter gets it anyway. "Bite me. The parts guy called, can do the lot for two fifty. Colleen's selling the family silver and she wants you to sell your left kidney. I said that was okay."

Jared pulls out a chair from under the kitchen table, slides his ass down 'til it's near hanging off the edge, kicks his feet up on the table and rocks back enough to get it resting on two legs. A little act of rebellion when there's no one there to see it. "My left kidney and one of your balls, I'll let you choose which one - it's not like you use them anyway, right?"

"Fuck you! _Ow_ \- _Mom_!" And Jared cringes then, can imagine the look on Peter's mom's face and the advancing asparagus spear. Colleen doesn't do _Mom_. "He'll throw in the manual and the tools and the stuff for the brakes for an extra fifty."

Jared does a little math in his head and cringes again, lets the chair fall back to the floor, wood loud against hand cut Italian marble. "'kay - but -" He doesn't get the rest out, this time no different to every other time Jared tries to bring it up.

"And it's still _'no'_ on the pink furry dice, you really need to let that shit go, man!" Conversation ended, the dial tone Peter's only goodbye.

*

Jared spends Sunday at his dad's office, Walkman turned up to eleven as he sits on the floor in the fifth floor conference room with a pile of papers he needs to sort and file spread in a halo around him. He's been doing this long enough that he doesn't need to think, just read and sort and pile, paper cuts stinging his fingers, blood leaving little smudges he'll get shit for on briefs his dad will never see anyway. It's mindless and boring and he spends the whole day, just like all the ones before it, making plans in his head.

His dad's driver's waiting for him when he's done; windows rolled down, hat off and cigarette burning between his fingers. Jared grins as he takes shotgun, takes the offered soda and cigarette before he buckles up.

"Traffic's real bad tonight huh?" Jared lets his ass slide down, head falling to rest on the back of the seat as he lights up, takes a deep drag and holds it just long enough for it to hurt, blows it out to hang heavy in the air above him.

"Detour it is." 

Jared lets his eyes close, the cigarette burning almost forgotten between his fingers, the road noise and George's freeform jazz low from the speakers lulling him just like it always does. They don't talk, George taps his fingers on the steering wheel, Jared's foot keeping the same time on the door and the half hour to Peter's house passes as easy as it always does.

"How long have I got?" He asks, even though he knows.

George checks his watch, just like every other time before, it's always the same answer. "You got thirty minutes."

"Thanks, man." 

He grabs his bag from the back and the front door's open before he can even knock, the bag exchanged for a still-warm roast beef sandwich and a crooked smile.

"Hey." Peter stands back to let Jared in, closing the door behind them both before he follows Jared upstairs.

"Good day at the office, dear?" 

Jared's got a mouthful of what has to be the best sandwich he's ever had in his life so he just pulls a face around the next bite and shrugs, it's not like he needs to say _'it sucked ass, man'_ anyway. Jared doesn't miss the way Peter looks down at the paper cuts on his hands and back up again with a frown, teeth hard in his lip, brows furrowed 'til they're almost meeting. It's not a good look on him and Jared hates that he put it there.

"Don't, man, it's okay." Even though they both know it's not. Won't be 'til they're on the road, his dad's too-thick eyebrows and permanently disappointed face in the rear view mirror.

The slightest nod and with that Peter's rummaging through Jared's bag, pulling papers, files and a few CDs free to lay out on his bed. It's not the end of it; Jared's not naive and Peter's fucking stubborn, but it's done for now and Jared's grateful for that. There's a half empty can of soda on Peter's nightstand, lukewarm and kinda flat, but Jared takes a big gulp anyway, wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and makes a point of bouncing a little on the bed before he settles down, shifts the papers into some kind of order.

"Okay, so, Math - you've got that pretty much down, just a little more on statistics and probability and you're done. Physics - I've marked out some pages you need to go over again a couple times, you're almost there and I'll go through it with you again before the test on Friday. The rest is good, just study and you've got it." He piles the CDs up - six in all - and hands them over. "Zepp too - for when we're working." 

"Awesome." Peter doesn't say thank you and Jared doesn't want him to, they got over that about the same time they realised neither of them needed it.

"Engine 101 tomorrow, right?" Jared would be lying if he said this part wasn't what he was looking forward to most; getting his hands dirty on more than taking the garbage out on Sunday nights, working for something that's _his_. And Peter's, but that pretty much goes without saying. Might only be a couple hours before it gets too dark to work, before they need to stop for dinner and George turns up just in time for dessert, but it's a couple hours just the same and it's something his dad can't take away.

"And Colleen's possibly-not-edible loaf thing." And Jared's totally not grinning at Peter's shudder, really he isn't. "Fuck off, you remember the tofu Mac 'n' Cheese right? That shit was nasty. No-meat Mondays suck your grandfather's dog's balls, man."

He sees the car lights flash through Peter's bedroom window, George's five minute warning and Jared will swear up and down half an hour gets shorter every time, like there's some space-time continuum shit going on and Leonard's the evil genius behind the curtain. The evil genius you don't want to piss off more than he already is by being home late for dinner. 

Peter's already up and at his door before Jared's even halfway off the bed, he knows the drill as well as Jared does, they fuck this up and Jared's dad finds out, then they lose everything else and Jared's not even close to being ready for that to happen. It's not enough, it's never going to be, going from every day and all weekend right from fifth grade, to where they can only snatch a couple hours here and there since Jared's dad decided High Tower was a much better fit for Jared. That Jared's _issues_ were solely Peter's doing and nothing to do with home and a father that just didn't get him.

And it pisses Jared off even more that even though they don't fuck it up and he will get home on time and his dad's not even fucking _there_ , he still manages to ruin the only good thing Jared has right now.

Peter cuffs the back of Jared's head and pushes him out the door, his hand resting on the back of Jared's neck just like always and Jared lets his head fall back a little, again just like always, 'til Peter's fingers pinch a little too tight, 'til they're at the top of the stairs and Peter lets go.

"Call me later okay? And here -" as he hands Jared a stick of Juicy Fruit, "your dad'll have your ass if he smells smoke on you again."

Jared nods and smiles, swaps the gum for the too-small roll of tens he's got in his pocket and presses them into Peter's hand. He's trying real hard to ignore George's _'you've got a minute kid, get your ass down here'_ second headlight flash, but it's not working so much.

"Donation toward the _'Save Peter's Testicles'_ fund. More next week 'kay?" He knows it's not enough, that if they were to divide the car up on what each of them put in, he'd own the tail pipe and maybe two wheels, but Peter just smiles that stupid grin of his and nudges Jared down the stairs.

"Okay, fuck off and I'll see you tomorrow."

*

The heat beats off the sidewalk as Jared cycles to Peter's from school. He looks ridiculous; blazer tied round his waist, the arms flapping out behind him and his pants leg tucked into one too-long regulation sock. Sweat sticks his hair to his head and his shirt to his back under his school bag, sleeves rolled up and his palms slipping on the handles. He's going too fast; dodging in between cars so close he almost gets knocked off a couple times. He's timed the journey before now; good days it's twenty-five minutes, forty in traffic. He chances a look down at his watch and today he'll make it in twenty. Something so simple shouldn't make him smile like he's just found a fifty, but it does and he doesn't care how a little pathetic that makes him look.

His tires skid as he pulls up on Peter's drive, barely missing the Bug's (newly repaired) rear fender. He's hot and uncomfortable, doesn't miss a second dumping his bag and pulling his shirt over his head even as he's knocking on the door.

"I distinctly remember ordering a stripper-gram with _boobs_ , who do I see about a refund?" Peter yanks Jared's shirt off the rest of the way and presses a really fucking freezing can of soda right where Jared's undershirt's ridden up.

"Motherfucker!" Jared jumps back, his ass hitting the half open door. "Well, shit -" and of course that's just when Colleen comes 'round the corner from the kitchen with a plate piled with cookies. Awesome.

"And good afternoon to you too, Jared." Jared would really love the floor to open up right about now and no amount of staring at it seems to get it to either. "Dinner's in a couple of hours, there are old clothes in the garage for you both, don't walk grease through the house and please remember to keep cursing to an acceptable decibel." She passes her hand over Jared's head, goes up on tip-toe to kiss Peter's cheek and even though he's laughing his ass off, still manages to look vaguely disgusted by mom cooties.

"I'll call when it's time to get washed up, now get out, I have an awesome not-meat loaf to make." And then she's gone and Jared's left, like he mostly always is, a little, well, shell shocked. Colleen will do that to you.

"Come on -" Peter hooks his fingers into Jared's belt loops and tugs him down the hall to the garage door. "Need to get the engine, er, unplugged I guess. The guy dropped the engine tool stuff by while I was at school, it's awesome, man." 

Jared follows because that's what Jared does, always a little in Peter's shadow and happy to be there, even though he knows if Peter had his way it'd be the other way around. His dad always said he was far too happy to be dragged around (and into trouble) by Peter, even put it in the fucking 'presentation' he gave Jared just after junior high graduation.  
Peter lets go, turns and stops short in front of him and Jared runs right into him, chest to back and he freezes right there, nose pressed to Peter's shoulder blade and the plate of cookies plastered between them. It's cooler in the garage, the cold air bringing goose bumps and getting the hairs on his arms standing on end. At least that's what he's telling himself, will 'til he's blue in the face if needs be, 'cause it's got absolutely nothing to do with anything else. Nope, not even a little bit.

" _Dude_!" With a shove, knee to the back of Peter's thigh and his fingers hard in the small of Peter's back. And if his fingers curl a little in the warm material there, then Peter doesn't call him on it and Jared won't mention it.

"Watch the crumbs." Peter's grabbing the back of his t-shirt with one hand and batting at the crumbs threatening to fall down the back of his jeans with the other even as he's stepping forward. "No one wants ass flavor cookie crumbs." And then it's up and over his head to be dumped on the floor as he reaches for the light switch.

And okay, so it's not like Jared hasn't seen Peter before. It's _Peter_ for fuck sake, they grew up in each other's pockets. Jared was the first person Peter told about getting hard in Chem class, who made Jared snort soda out his nose one lunchtime when he decided that looking at test tubes made him horny, who smuggled his mom's underwear catalog up to his room one sleepover when they were twelve, who confidently declared at fifteen that he was old enough to get away with buying condoms only to come out of the drug store with gum and a tin of Altoids. Peter, who hasn't in all the time Jared has known him, thought twice about just being Peter. But - 

Yeah, breathing would be good now. Also not looking at the small of your best friend's back and kinda wishing you could lick at the crumbs that are stuck to the sweat right there too while you're at it.

Seriously - What. The. Fuck.

He doesn't know where it's coming from, except that if he's honest with himself he knows he's lying, also knows he doesn't want to think about it and ain't that the truth.

"Not your ass anyways - seriously man, would it kill you to shower once in a while? Your stink's ruined the cookies." Jared blusters past, absolutely does not look at Peter as he dumps the plate on the workbench and grabs a pair of the old pants folded on top.

"Fuck you, my stink is medicinal." And with that, Jared finds himself in a headlock with his nose buried in Peter's armpit.

"Ummphucker!" There's no getting out of it, he's stuck, they both know it and Jared gives up trying after he's gone for all the spots on Peter's side that used to get him loose, just allows himself to be dragged along, feet trailing out behind him and his hands tight in Peter's waist band.

Peter elbows the garage door button at the same time as he lets Jared go to fall in a coughing heap at his feet, the light from outside blacked out for a second when the work pants hit him square in the face.

"Quit fucking around and get to work, bitch, I ain't paying you to sit on your ass!"

Jared's grinning when he flips Peter the bird, forgets about the _thing_ before and drops his school pants to puddle on the floor, his long socks look stupid and on cue Peter cracks up when Jared pulls them tight to his knees.

"You wish you had awesome socks like these." 

"And _you_ wish you had the legs for them."

"Asswipe," as Peter hits play on the CD player hanging on the garage wall.

"Butt munch." _'Dazed and Confused'_ cuts him off. And no, he's not even going there right now.

*

They get the engine disconnected from the car. The transmission's just as fucked as they thought it would be when they get it loose but the brakes look kinda newish so they get tossed in the 'keep maybe' box on the back seat to look at later. The ignition key, the fob a bent all out of shape peace sign, is taped to the side of that box, along with the front cover of a Rand McNally California map. It's a reminder, a _reason_ neither of them need, but they did it anyway. 

They get their five minute warning just as Page hits a spectacular guitar riff and Peter drops the wrench he's been cussing at for not moving a rusted on bolt for the last ten minutes, on his toe.

"Get washed up, you can eat out there. It's awesome by the way!"

"You think she'd know if we order pizza?" Peter's hopping on one foot, biting his lip as he tries to get his sneaker off.

"She'd make you eat the box, man, it's not worth it." Jared scrubs at his hands with a rag, smears more grease than he wipes off and gives up, it's not like he won't have a fork right?

"Everything tastes good with ketchup." Peter's shoe hits Jared on the shoulder, the dirty rag thrown back in reply and then it's _on_. Peter's knuckles grind into Jared's scalp, Jared's fingers dig right into that place under Peter's ribs, Jared gets an elbow to the nose, Peter a knee to the gut and it's too messy to call who wins after that, but Jared will swear blind it's not Peter.

They eat on the garage floor, paper plates going soggy from too much gravy and their plastic forks missing a couple tines by the time they're even halfway through from being jabbed in too hard. And truth be told it's not half bad, one of the better no-meat Mondays Jared can remember, even with Peter's exaggerated gagging noises and the weird freshly squeezed guava/banana/oatmeal smoothie.

Peter pushes his plate away when it's empty, lays almost all the way back and twists to get to the mini fridge hidden under the bench and the cans of Coke he stashed in there last week. He throws Jared one, pops the tab on his own with the other, gulps it down with an obnoxious slurp and finishes with a belch any self-respecting man would be proud of. 

Jared knows he can do better. He gulps down a couple mouthfuls of his own, a couple more of air, is just about to swallow when Peter chooses that _exact_ moment to poke his toe right in the middle of Jared's belly. The spray of coke from Jared's nose is spectacular and right back in Peter's face. He'd laugh at the _actual_ gagging noise Peter's making, the way he's smacking at his own face to get the mess off, if he wasn't currently drowning in Coke. 

Coke he's more than happy to wipe over Peter's undershirt when he dives up to knock Peter on his back, thighs tight on Peter's hips and his arms in a lock he learned from that one semester of compulsory wrestling last year. He'd been holding it back for emergencies, but a mid-belch toe in the belly is totally a dick move and so worth it. He's got his face buried somewhere in the middle of Peter's chest, wiping this way and that when it suddenly hits him and he freezes.

Peter's not struggling, not even making a show of trying to push Jared off, 'cause wrestling move or not, Peter's bigger and would've at least got a knee to Jared's back by now, tried to buck Jared off and gone for that soft place under Jared's ribs that has him calling uncle. Jared should move, let Peter up and take whatever shit Peter's going to hand him and then they'll get back to the engine and George will come get him and his dad will bark something about grades and expectations and he'll go to bed and not think about any of the weird shit from today.

Except he doesn't. The moment drags out and his heartbeat kicks up a notch and no, no, no, not _now_. Shit, he has awesome timing.

" _Jared_." And now he doesn't _dare_ fucking move, doesn't want to see the look on Peter's face, so he just breathes deep and wipes his face one more time on Peter's shirt, closes his eyes tight and sinks his teeth into his lip hard enough to hurt.

This is not happening. It's some kind of weird gas fume induced hallucination and any minute now he'll wake up with a headache and dry mouth and Peter will call, pretending to be a hotel wake up call and Jared will call him a douche bag and they'll talk about nothing 'til it's time to go to school.

"Come on man, look at me." It's a very warm hallucination that's now shifting under him and not in any kind of _'get off me, you freak'_ way either.

"I can't." His voice muffled by Peter's shirt and the chunk of his lip he's still chewing on. FYI - it's not working.

"Can."

"Can't."

"Ca - for fuck sake, are we twelve?" And with that Jared's on his back and Peter's out of the arm lock and right there between Jared's legs and - _oh_ \- 

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"It's okay, it's just - I know it's not test tubes or underwear catalogs or anything but it's, you know, okay, 'cause, you know, we're and you're and fuck it, it's not any - it doesn't mean -" Peter kissing him shuts him up.

Peter. Kissing him. Peter's kissing him.

And then Peter's not. Oh okay, he just did it to shut Jared up, it didn't - 

"Oh my god will you shut up and stop thinking and just fucking _look_ at me?" It's then that Jared realizes he's still got his eyes screwed shut, and while he's at it his fingers are aching from holding onto Peter's shirt too tight and he's kinda breathless and still really fucking _hard_.

He's nodding even as he's opening one eye, slowly, face a painful wince like maybe if he can't see Peter properly then Peter can't see how flushed he is, how much he really kinda likes it and doesn't want his ass kicked for getting hard because he wiped Coke over Peter's shirt. And of course, Peter's smiling. He doesn't look like he wants to hand Jared his ass on a silver platter, doesn't look like he wants to kick him out and never return his calls or worse, call his _dad_. All of which Jared knows is ridiculous 'cause Peter would die before he did any of that, but Jared's brain's not working right now, okay?

"Just stop." And Jared does. Because if there's anything he can do it's what Peter wants. "I'm going to kiss you again now, okay?"

Well, duh.

"Yeah, okay."

And Jared stares at Peter's lips and forgets to breathe and won't close his eyes, doesn't 'til they cross and Peter goes blurry and he doesn't think, still doesn't breathe and holds on to Peter's t-shirt like it's the only thing keeping him from flying off into a million pieces when Peter's lips touch his, soft and barely there, again and once more and he wants more even before they're done and he's pulling to get closer, sucking in a breath through his nose when his chest starts to ache, wrapping his legs up tight around Peter's hips and demanding more, cause this can't just be it, Peter wouldn't - he can't – 

"Hey - just - _Jesus_ \- not here, we can't, you gotta -" And it's something that Peter's lost for words and Jared did that to him and now Peter knows how Jared feels most of the time. Although right now Jared feels like whining 'cause Peter's pulling off and back and away and looking like maybe they shouldn't have done that. "Hey, no, it's cool, don't - we're so beyond good man, you don't even know, but George is gonna be here any minute and you can't be late."

Jared looks up to the clock on the garage wall, it's old and beat up and on kinda crooked, but it's kept perfect time minus five minutes since Jared's known Peter and it gives them ten to get their shit together.

"Fuck." Peter raises one eyebrow and grins, waggles the other one and if Jared thought he was blushing before, it's got nothing on now. "I was having a minor gay crisis about cookie crumbs and your ass and you're all -" He waves his hand about between them, pretty much lost for what Peter is apart from an asshole for being so fucking okay about everything. "I'll never be able to eat cookies again. I fucking hate you." It's all he's got for now and Peter just grins wider and throws him his school pants.

George pulls up right on time, just as Jared's done shoving his school shirt in his bag and tucking the tub of left-overs under his arm. George loves Colleen's cooking, well maybe not the tofu Mac 'n' Cheese, but then even Colleen didn't like that, but like always she makes too much and George has left-overs for lunch for the next couple of days, his sandwiches left uneaten on the front passenger seat.

They load up Jared's bike in back, car rug laid out carefully to stop gear grease getting on the carpet, even though his dad never sees the damn trunk he'd know it was there and Jared hesitates for a second, doesn't turn round to say goodbye, just shoves his hands in his pockets and looks over his shoulder. It's getting harder to leave every damn time, this time even more so and it's not just about the blue balls either. It's like he's leaving home.

*

 

Jared's pretty sure he's never jerked off so much in his entire life. He's also pretty sure that his dick's going to drop off if he even tries to do it again, but somehow that's not stopping him. The shower's hot and his hand feels too damn good and this time there's not that stab of shame curling in his gut that it's Peter he thinks about while he's got one hand on the tile and the other just this side of too tight on his dick. And okay, it was just a kiss, but that's all he's had so far to work with, that one messy, rushed, barely hitting first with Jenny from his AP English class one day after school that both of them decided they were never going to repeat. Just a kiss if you don't count the skin mag that's been doing the rounds at school since Spring Break and spent way too long under Jared's mattress before he had to give it back. All he's got to go on sure, but imagination is a whole other story and he's had time to get _that_ just about perfect.

It's quick and hard and just once he's gonna take his time, make it last, play out the last of what's going on in his head before he loses it all over the tile, breathless and about ready to fall on his ass, but not this time. It's late and he's got before school extra curriculars he needs the credit for if he's gonna get permission to take his study period at home on Wednesday. Of course, 'home' will be Peter's and that there gets him thinking again.

It's supposed to be getting the engine out and seeing if they can't salvage any of the carpet or if they need replace all of it. Jared's almost all the way sure it's _not_ gonna turn out like that. But then again, just as much as he's almost all the way sure Peter wasn't fucking with him, there's still that little part of him that thinks maybe Peter was. He can play it over and over again in his head - and he really has - and it comes out different every time, except the part where Peter kissed him. More than once. And there's no way he's letting that one go.

He washes up real quick, plays the whole thing over in his head again while he's brushing his teeth and it's not helping, nothing's gonna help except talking to Peter and he's not sure he's got the balls to do that right now. So he just falls into bed, punches at his pillow a couple dozen times and has the worst night's sleep he's had in a very long time.

*

Tuesday passes in a daze, he's pretty sure he does okay faking it; no one calls him on it and he doesn't end up in the Principal's office so he's going to count it as a win. But if you asked him what happened today, he won't have a damn clue. The ride home's not much better. He's not rushing this time, but he's nearly knocked on his ass more than once and there was a close call with a soccer mom in an SUV on a left turn he should've waited a little longer to take.

The house is empty when he gets home, a note on the counter telling him his supper's under a cover in the fridge for him to microwave and when he looks over at the kitchen phone, it's big and silent and really fucking _scary_ on the wall. To be fair, it's his turn to call Peter and he's still not sure he can, but Peter would kick his ass for pussying out and it's that that has him picking up and dialling and trying real hard not to choke on his own tongue.

"Do not say one single word. I can see you have your head up your ass from here, so go put whatever they left you out for supper in the microwave, get yourself a soda and a seat, and listen to me, okay?"

"Okay."

"That was rhetorical - no speaking remember?"

Jared nods even though he knows Peter can't see, dread curling in his belly as he shoves his plate in the microwave, grabs a can from the fridge and pulls himself out a chair. If this is gonna be it, he might as well be kinda comfy. Peter waits. Jared can hear him breathing down the phone and any other time Jared'd be calling him a perve and making porn noises back at him, but right now it's all he can do not to analyse the way Peter's breathing, see if he can't get some kind of answer that way. Sometimes he's fucking pathetic.

"I kissed you. I wanted to kiss you so I kissed you. I liked kissing you. Later I'm going to kiss you some more and then we'll go from there. Stop thinking about it, stop telling yourself it was all mistake and stop thinking I'm asshole enough to blow you off after." 

The line's silent for what feels like a week. It's Peter giving him time to process, he knows it is, but it's still too damn long. But there's that little stab of hope right there where the dread was, so he's going to hold onto that. 

"Okay so now we have that sorted, Colleen wants to know if George likes sugar cookies."

"Erm, yeah, I guess," as the microwave dings and steam that smells a lot like Brussels sprouts wafts out when Jared opens the door.

"Cool and also, the car stuff'll be here Friday, so come over after school and stay so we can work on it Saturday? And I got an A in Geometry by the way."

Jared's grinning now, even though the plate's burning his fingers and dinner looks like something he'd feel guilty about giving to Mrs Peterson next door's dog. Well it's that or pizza again.

"Awesome, the engine and the A, I mean. Don't know about Friday night, man, I'll have to come up something pretty spectacular to get out of going to the office two Saturdays in a row." He stabs at his food with a fork, moves it around his plate a little before shoving a forkful in. It burns the roof of his mouth but it tastes okay so it'll do.

"We are always spectacular my man - nothing can get in the way of the Franklin and Bash epic spectacularness. We'll think of something."

And just like that everything's okay and again Jared feels like kicking himself for even thinking it wouldn't be.

*

 

Jared wakes up early on Wednesday with a smile on his face not even his father grumbling something about early college admission and scheduling SATs over breakfast can wipe away. They've been playing this game for the last month; his dad insisting that despite not being mature enough, he should get the process underway, it's his future after all and no son of Leonard Franklin should be seen to wait on something as fundamental as his _future_. Jared, in turn, has perfected the nod and shrug and _'sure, dad'_ he knows infuriates the man, but not enough for his dad to do more than mention it the few times they see each other a week. It's a fine line, one they've both been walking since Jared turned twelve and Peter convinced him he had the balls to have an opinion that wasn't his father's. Was the same time Jared noticed things were not so great between his mom and dad and that his dad really didn't like _'that Bash boy'_ very much at all.

It's Wednesday and he's got extra credit under his belt and a study period at Peter's that really won't involve any studying at all. More than likely won't involve car stuff either if he's got anything to do with it and Jared knows he's got that grin on and a stupid look on his face if the way his mom's looking at him's anything to go by, but he could care less. It's _Wednesday _and Wednesday is awesome.__

As much as Tuesday was a daze, Wednesday's a day he remembers everything. Everything goes right; lunch isn't a soggy mess on his plate and he doesn't get cornered in the bathrooms between Second and Third by Al the asshole looking to steal his History notes. He wins the debate he didn't really bother studying much for and there's an actual spring in his step, damn it, when he dumps his shit in his locker and heads for the door and his bike and freedom.

There's second guessing on the way to Peter's, because he's Jared and after the Buffalo thing in junior high and the shit he got, he's dialed the cocky back a notch or five, regardless of the look and the noogie he gets from Peter every time he does. And yes, it is possible to sniff your 'pits and run your tongue over your teeth for stray taco _and_ avoid getting knocked over by a guy in a Porsche. Just.

He's just as out of breath and just as sweaty as the last time when he turns the corner into Peter's road; heart racing way too fast and a sick feeling threatening tacos on the sidewalk as he slows and stops four houses from Peter's and walks the rest of the way. He's absolutely not dragging his feet, not counting the cracks in the sidewalk or the blades of grass poking up between them, he's not. It doesn't take him ten minutes to walk those four houses and he's not about ready to turn around again by the time he's at the end of Peter's driveway. He's a fucking pussy is what he is and it doesn't matter that he's telling himself he's not doing any of that to hold off seeing the one damn person who makes even the worst shit he has to put up with okay, he's still fucking doing it and staring at his feet isn't gonna change that.

There's another pair of feet right there inches from his own then; beat up Chucks, one bright red sock, the other faded green with purple flowers poking over the high tops and Jared can't help but snort a laugh. "Shut the fuck up, _this_ is how to wear socks man." Peter wriggles one foot before he kicks at Jared's ankle and grabs hold of his elbow to get him moving. "Come on, stow your shit, I wanna at least get started before you find me totally irresistible and we get distracted."

"You're so full of shit." Jared only just gets hold of his bike before he's dragged along in Peter's wake. 

There's another plate of cookies waiting on the work bench, two glasses of milk alongside their pants from the other day, laundered and folded, his on top. It's too quiet and Jared catches himself looking around like he's waiting for the Candid Camera guy to pop out from under the Beetle and shove a mic in his face.

He shakes out the work pants and few times too many, smoothing away imaginary crinkles and stalling for time before he needs to drop his pants. It's not like he doesn't want to drop his pants, it's just that he doesn't know if he should drop his pants and for fuck sake, this shit is making him second guess fucking breathing and it's beyond ridiculous.

"I can't do this." Four words Jared has pretty much prayed constantly he'd never hear from Peter.

"Yeah, okay I get it -" And the ground won't open up, won't swallow him whole. Fucking floor.

"No fuckwad - not _us_ this, I mean _this_ this." Jared's pretty sure Peter knows what Peter's talking about. Jared on the other hand... "You're not being you. I want _you_ Jared, not - fuck I don't even know what you are right now, but you're not Jared."

"I don't -"

"We're friends, right?"

"Of course we are, Peter, I don't -"

"So go back to being Jared, my friend and awesome partner in all things not at all criminal in any way. Back to being Jared, the guy I'm going to sell my left nut for so we can drive around California in a possibly still-illegal car before we have to start being grown ups. You don't and I'm gonna have to start looking for the pod under your bed and come after pod-you with a fucking flame thrower!"

And then Peter's crowding all up in Jared's space, his hands on Jared's hips and his breath on Jared's face. "Just you okay?" And Peter does what Peter always does when Jared can't seem to get his head out of his ass and is thinking himself in circles. Gives him something else entirely to think about.

Peter tastes of mint and sour Gummi Bears and the coffee he sneaks out of Colleen's cup when she's not looking. His lips are soft and there's stubble on his chin and he's smiling as he's kissing Jared and Jared can't help but smile back. It's not fireworks and thunderbolts, but it's Peter, and ever since Jared can remember, that's everything. 

"I'm stupid, right?" as he pulls back, lets his head fall against Peter's chest.

"Really, really stupid, with a side of dumb ass too." And Peter hasn't let go, fingers hard in Jared's hips and his heart beating just as hard as Jared's.

"No fucking idea what I'm doing, man." Jared chances a look up, lip caught between his teeth and holding on to Peter just as tight.

"I'm a huge fan of winging it." And there's that smile; the one that gets both of them into more trouble that Jared's dad would ever dream of, the same one Jared's never been able to say no to.

So he doesn't.

There's a second's pause, Peter getting it about the same time as Jared starts walking backwards, dragging Peter with him and there's a million and one things Jared wants right now, all jumbled up in a mess in his head that make his hands shake and his breath catch in his throat. They almost fall over the jack, feet near gone out from under them as it rolls, crashing into the bench to knock the roll of tools to the floor with a loud clank. Another pause and then they're moving again, sure the noise didn't bring Colleen out from the house. Jared's hands slip too many times on the car's door handle, too busy biting at Peter's lip to turn 'round to get a grip.

"Just - move, okay?" And he's being shoved out of the way, the door opening under Peter's hand and then he's being bundled in the back of the car, head hitting the box of parts on the back seat before they're getting pushed with a crash into the foot well. And then Peter's pushing him up the seat some more 'til his head's jammed up against the other door and yet his feet are still hanging off the end of the seat. 

It's not a very big back seat.

He needs a minute, needs to get it all sorted in his head, work out what the fuck they're doing, if this is the best or the worst thing they've ever done. Peter gives him less than a second. 

"If you don't touch me right now, I swear to God -"

Jared doesn't know what he's doing but he grabs for Peter anyway; fingers twisted in his t-shirt, pushing it up and up 'til it's bunched up under Peter's armpits and he can get his mouth on skin and he'll deny the noise he makes just then, but _Jesus_ , it's every jerk off fantasy he's had for the last six months and then some.

"Oh _fuck_ \- you gotta -" And then Peter's pulling away and Jared's trying to crawl up with him, hand pushing on the seat and elbows threatening to give out under him. "Wait, I want to - just -" 

And Peter's kissing him again, all of his weight pinning Jared to the seat and Jared's thighs fall wide then; one knee pressed to the back of the seat and the other foot falling with a thud into the foot well. And this time he doesn't care that he's hard, or that he's not even thinking twice about getting his hands on Peter's ass and getting them closer and holy shit it's almost too good and he's gonna fucking lose it in his shorts before too long and that's another thing he doesn't seem to care much about either right now.

"Stop." And Peter's pulling back again and fucking _hell_ he needs to just get back to the kissing and the awesome grinding thing they had going on.

"Really?" There's still not much between them; Peter's got his knee jammed up behind Jared's thigh and his hands shoved up under Jared's shirt, nail sharp over his nipple and really Jared can't think of a single reason they should be stopping. Like, ever.

Peter blushes and Jared feels it right to his toes. "I want to -" And Jared can't help but watch the way Peter's Adam's apple bobs when he swallows, the way he licks his lips and drags his teeth over his bottom lip.

"'Fess up or shut up, cause I'm about ready to pop and it ain't gonna be pretty." He digs his fingers that much harder in Peter's ass, you know, just in case he doesn't get the message.

"Want to see you." Peter's not looking at Jared anymore, well, not at his face anyway.

"But I'm right -" and either Jared's all up with the stupid or he's more than a little bit slow seeing as his brain is seriously short of blood right now, 'cause it takes him a second or two. "Oh. _Oh_."

Peter dives back in for another kiss; messy and too hard and Jared will swear he can feel the heat in Peter's cheeks and the way his hands are shaking.

"Hey, it's - yeah, want you to, want to -" And then he's pushing at Peter's chest and wriggling back 'til he's kinda half sitting back against the door and Peter's kneeling between his thighs. It's like the best porn Jared hasn't even had the imagination to come up with yet and he knows it's only going to get better. Peter bats Jared's hand away as he goes for his own fly, shakes his head and curls his finger 'round Jared's wrist to pull his hand to Peter's own fly, flicks his thumb at Jared's zipper and he's still blushing, cheeks flaming red, but he's looking right at Jared now and it takes Jared's breath away.

"Want to see you," as he tugs Jared's zipper down, slow enough that Jared thinks maybe his head might explode any second now and his own hand is shaking, makes a mess of getting Peter's jeans undone, nails scratching at Peter's belly when he tries to get the button loose. 

"Shit, sorry." 

"'S'okay - like it."

And okay, so Jared's filing that one away for when he's in the shower in the morning. Peter stops again when Jared's zipper's all the way down and Jared thinks that maybe Peter's a huge fucking tease with the stopping and the waiting and the Jesus just get on with it already. And then Peter's got his hand on Jared's dick and there's no more thinking, more than likely won't be any thinking ever again.

"Oh _shit_ -" and Jared's hips jerk up and his fingers dig too hard into Peter's thigh, the only thing that's keeping him from losing it right this second 'cause seriously - 

Peter's hips jerk again and Jared gets with the program, pulls too hard at Peter's underwear, gets it tucked up under Peter's balls and next time they're gonna do this properly but right now all he can do is get his hand 'round Peter's dick and it's too rough, too fast and Peter's matching him and he's fighting to keep his eyes open and struggling to catch a breath and it's gonna be over too fast and Peter's leaving bruises in his hip the same as the ones he's leaving on Peter's thigh and there's no air, it's too hot and his heart's beating out his chest and fuck, fuck, fuck – 

And _that_ was definitely fireworks and thunderbolts. And Peter doesn't stop; works him through it 'til it's too much and he's rolling his hips back and away and coughing a laugh when Peter still doesn't stop, fucking drags his fingers through the mess on Jared's belly and the hem of his shirt and Jared never came so hard in his damn life and he wants to do it some more just as soon as he can get it up again. He's sixteen; it's not going to take that long.

"Jesus, Jared, come _on_." Not much more than an impatient grunt and then Peter's got his hand over Jared's on his dick, hard and fast, their fingers tangled together, his head bent low and his lip caught between his teeth. And Jared doesn't think he's ever seen anything quite so beautiful in his life when Peter's hips stutter and freeze and he loses it all over their fists and on Jared's chest, Jared's name on his lips.

Peter falling on him knocks his breath from his chest and crushes their hands, and more importantly their dicks between them. And Jared really can't bring himself to care much, if at all.

" _Dude_ ," About seems to cover everything. It's not like Jared's even capable of anything more after _that_.

"I know, right?" Peter's voice is muffled against Jared's shoulder, his breath too hot on Jared's skin and his hair sticking up Jared's nose. 

"Heavy." Jared bats at Peter's back, doesn't want him to move really and makes a noise when Peter tries to do just that. "Nah - 's'okay." 

"I think you broke me." Peter lifts his head just enough to smear a messy kiss under Jared's jaw before he lets his head drop again with a puffed out breath.

"I think we broke the car," as Jared shifts a little, the seat under them squeaking and what feels a lot like a spring digs dangerously close to his kidney.

"'m not selling both nuts Jared, no more sex in the car. Bed next time, 'kay?"

"Okay."

Jared tries really hard, and really fails, not to grin so hard that his face hurts and hold onto Peter just that little bit harder. Peter in turn doesn't say a damn word, just rubs the top of his head under Jared's chin and hums against Jared's shoulder.

They actually manage to work on the car some. Not much 'cause apparently hand jobs in the back of your car make you even hornier than you were before and also mean that you suck at being subtle, or careful for that matter, and when Colleen comes out to call them in for supper it's written all over her face just how subtle and careful they're really not being.

Jared smacks Peter on the back of the head as they follow Colleen out. "Please tell me your mom does not know what just happened?"

Peter just turns around and smiles and Jared dies just a little bit from embarrassment.

"Oh that's just awesome."

Supper's not much better. Peter can't keep his hands to himself under the table and Colleen just keeps smiling at them and Jared's never blushed so much in his life, and that includes the time his mom found the porn mag under his mattress and decided that talking to him about his _'burgeoning sexuality'_ in front of his father was a good idea. He barely eats a thing and it's pot roast and he loves Colleen's pot roast, but it's too much all at once; everything he wanted right here for the taking and he doesn't have to think about it, work it over in his head a million times to convince himself it's all okay, cause it is okay. And that's going to take some getting used to. So he just picks at his food and tries to keep up and all the while grinning like he did when he was five and the balloon animal guy at the park gave him a giraffe that was bigger than he was. 

There's no more car after supper, but there's making out on the couch after they've packed up George's left-overs and done the dishes and by the time George arrives to pick him up, Jared's hornier than he's ever been and has his shirt tied 'round his waist to hide the hard on that won't go away. Peter kisses him before he opens the door; soft and quick, his fingers tangled in Jared's hair and his knee pressed between Jared's thighs.

"Call you tomorrow 'kay?"

"Yeah." And then he's off down the path to the waiting car, left-overs under his arm and his back pack over one shoulder, that stupid spring back in his step again, along with a smile big enough to see from space.

End

**Author's Note:**

> For Vic. Beta, cheerleader, enabler and gifter of semi colons <3


End file.
